Venia
by AliFyre
Summary: Following the second World War, Italy turns to God to find answers for the atrocities he committed during the fighting. However, it seems that Poland might be the one that has the answers he seeks. ItaPol oneshot request written based off of a drawing of Italy and Poland together at the altar of a church.


It was dark when Feliciano staggered into the church, half dazed with exhaustion, terror, and guilt. He had not been able to sleep much at night since the war had started, something that had not changed as the bloody conflict had finally drawn to a close. The treaties were to be signed the following day, but he could not bring himself to feel the relief that his people had experienced when he had left the axis, nor the joy that had gripped the world when the allies had declared Victory in Europe. Instead he just felt empty.

It had been years since he had gone to church, having been all but forbidden by his boss during the war years, and for a few painful moments he thought that the familiar feeling of warmth that had always accompanied religious monuments was beyond his grasp. He stood in the narthex waiting desperately for it to appear, and when it did not, he felt something within his heart break just a little. Feeling flooded through him, icy and painful, as he began to fear that not even God could forgiven after all that had been done. His eyes brimming with tears, he sprinted forward down the long central aisle, his pounding footsteps echoing in the lofty vaulted ceiling of the magnificent building. It felt as if even the church was looking down on him as he frantically dashed for the altar, the high ceilings and stone walls a cold, unfeeling judge of all he had done.

Feliciano was certain that if the building could deliver a verdict, it would condemn him. And he was equally certain that he would deserve it.

He collapsed on his knees before the altar, tears dripping down his face as he stared up at the holy table. A dark, insistent voice inside his head whispered that he did not deserve to be here before God, but he could not bring himself to listen to it just then. He needed something, anything to tell him that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. He needed the love and forgiveness that only God could give. That no one else would give him, in light of his crimes.

And so he knealt before God and confessed, begging for absolution, for punishment, for anything but the icy fear and hot guilt that swirled within him, not canceling each other out but magnifying the other's intensity until both were unbearable. Although logically he knew that the majority of the crimes he was confessing for were not his fault, he could not help but feel that as a member of the Axis Powers he had somehow been directly responsible for the millions of needless deaths across Europe. The burden of it was crushing.

"War's got you down too, huh?" A voice cut through Feliciano's sobbed supplications, interrupting him as he begged God for forgiveness, or for death. His head snapped up and around, staring at the speaker with wide eyes. "It's okay, I, like, came here to pray too. Everyone's pretty much a mess right now."

"Feliks…" Feliciano rasped, his guilt growing even more the longer he gazed at the other man. Germany had invaded Poland, murdered his population, set up death camps in his lands, and Italy had supported him while he'd done it. He tore his eyes away, unable to take it for a moment longer.

"Are you okay?" Feliks asked, crouching down beside Feliciano at the altar rail. "I know the war has been hard, but it's all over now. You don't need to, like, bawl your eyes out over it." When Feliciano did not respond, he reached out and brought his fingertips to the little brunette's chin, drawing his face up so their eyes met. "Do you want to talk about it?" Unable to look elsewhere, Feliciano took in the haggard features of Feliks's face, which was deathly pale and disturbingly angular. There were heavy dark circles around his green eyes, which bore an existential exhaustion that mirrored Feliciano's own. The Italian began to sob harder.

"Oh God, Feli, c'mon now, what's wrong?" Feliks asked, dropping Feliciano's chin in favor of drawing the other man into his arms. Every fiber of Feliciano's body screamed how wrong this was, accepting comfort from the very man he had allowed to come so close to total destruction, yet he could not bring himself to pull away from the warmth of Felik's embrace.

"I-I-I… I did so many awful things, Feliks," Feliciano gasped through his tears, burying his face in the rough fabric of the Pole's shirt. The material reminded him of the coarseness of Ludwig's war uniform, bringing even more dark memories to the forefront of his mind. He had loved Ludwig as he tore Feliks apart, stood beside him, buried his face in his uniform when he couldn't bear to witness what they were doing. "I let him do so many awful things, I wanted him to! I wanted him to be powerful, so he could protect me, so we could always stay together…"

"And he took it too far," Feliks finished in a quiet voice. The disgust in his voice was obvious, but he never loosened his hold on Feliciano. Feliciano nodded miserably. "That doesn't make it your fault, you know."

"But it does! I encouraged him! I wanted him to become strong, to become unbeatable! I couldn't bear to lose him again… And after the Great War he was so weak…" Feliciano shifted in Feliks's ams, trying to make himself small. He felt sick with remorse, which was only made worse by remembering why he had done all that he had.

"Lose him again?" Feliks intoned, sounding somewhat confused.

"Not like I lost Holy Rome… I never wanted to hurt like that again…" Feliciano whispered. He balled his fists in his pants, his knuckles turning white with the pressure as he squeezed them tighter in his anguish. "But this hurts just as much."

"Losing someone you love does hurt," Feliks agreed in a tired voice. "Especially when they are wrest from your grasp and you can do nothing but watch as they are taken from you… I don't think anyone want to experience that, let alone twice."

"That doesn't make it right," Feliciano protested.

"But it does explain why you did it. You're not evil at heart Feliciano, you just wanted him to be safe. Sure, you guys were, like, awful in the way you went about it, but that doesn't mean you're a bad person. Nothing is that black and white."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Feliciano asked, lifting his head to look up at the blonde. Feliks gave him a small, sad smile.

"I know what it is to be totally destroyed by war," he replied simply. "And I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

"Even though I was the one who did it to you?" Feliciano asked, doubt evident in his tone. Feliks barked a laugh.

"You didn't destroy me in war. You came close, but, like, nothing can compare to the partitions." Feliciano's eyes widened.

"The partitions… Oh God, I'm sorry Feliks. I can't believe I forgot about them, I was so caught up in this war. But God this war was pretty awful too… I am just being so terrible and you're being so nice to me, I'm so sorry Feliks, I'm so sorry for supporting Germany against you and forgetting the partitions and crying on your shirt and —"

"I already told you you're not a bad person, remember? Stop apologizing," Feliks admonished gently, cutting Feliciano by carefully placing his small hand over the brunette's mouth.

"But even God won't forgive me for everything I've done," Feliciano protested, pushing Felik's hand off. "I did too many bad things. So I need to apologize until I am worth forgiving again."

Feliks rolled his eyes. "Silly. That's not how God works. If you're really sorry, then he forgives you. End of story."

"But… I didn't feel forgiven," Feliciano whispered, dropping his eyes down in shame. "I came to church because it was the one place I could always feel safe, and yet I feel so vulnerable here." Tears began to flow anew down his cheeks, dripping down onto his clenched fists.

"Well you do have to believe in it," Feliks reminded him gently. "Something tells me you don't believe God will forgive you." Feliciano stiffened. "But he already has, Feli. You just have to forgive yourself to be able to accept it."

"Why did you come here today, Feliks?" Feliciano asked quietly, not wanting to acknowledge Feliks's words. He was not quite ready for them yet.

"Because I felt lost," Feliks admitted, his voice as calm as if he was commenting on the weather.

"The future is uncertain for my people and me right now. I'm, like, worried, and I wanted to pray about it." Feliciano was silent, not sure how to respond. Sensing the Italian's hesitance, Feliks continued on. "I know it'll all be okay. I haven't been Catholic this long for nothing, you know. Things, like, work themselves out."

"Do you promise?" Feliciano asked, looking up to Feliks with wide amber eyes. His gaze was full of wary hope, and Feliks could not help but smile at him.

"Yeah, I promise." Feliciano relaxed into Feliks's arms, allowing the comfort of the embrace to fully envelope him, any resistance melting away. For the first time since the war started, he felt a gentle warmth in his heart, melting the ice and taming the fires that had been overwhelming him for so long. "Can we stay like this?" Feliciano asked, leaning into Feliks's chest. "As long as you like," the blonde replied, shifting under Feliciano's weight to get more comfortable. Taking a deep breath, he began to pray quietly, allowing himself to become immersed in the safety of God's presence and the warmth of the body in his arms.

By morning, both of them were asleep on the church floor, their limbs entangled and caught in the deepest, calmest sleep either of them had experienced in a very long time.

* * *

IMPORTANT NOTE: I am not religious, and am really sorry if I mis-portray anything about religion in this. I work for a church, so I think I am pretty well-informed, but I can't speak with the same level of knowledge of someone who has actually studied scripture. So if my little thing about forgiveness is wrong, please don't hate me.

Historical note: Compared to Germany and Japan, the war crimes committed by Italians during the Second World War were relatively small (not to say that they were unimportant, but Italy lacked a holocaust-equivalent level of atrocity). However, I feel that Feli would probably blame himself anyways, being the sensitive sweetheart that he is. I think he probably would have felt that in supporting Germany, he was supporting the horrors of the holocaust, the invasion of Poland (the Pact of Steel was signed a few short months before Germany launched his attack on Poland), and the other horrible things that happened during WW2 due to the actions of the Axis Powers.

When Feliks is talking about losing someone, I am referring to the partitions of Poland leading to the dissolution of the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth, which officially separated Poland (which ceased to exist) from Lithuania.


End file.
